


right through me

by femboysai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A little bit of NSFW, Eventual relationship, F!Reader is a bad bitch, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts AU, Haikyuu - Freeform, High School, I guess it's kinda slow burn-ish, Inarizaki, Kissing, Miya Osamu is low-key a simp, Mutual Pining, Osamu also is so touchy feely, Osamu cannot process having a crush, Osamu is bad at feelings in a way, Pining, Reader is sort of an exorcist but not, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, flufffff, in general, one sided pining, transfer student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femboysai/pseuds/femboysai
Summary: osamu doesn't believe in ghosts until he has to help you rid the one attached to atsumu.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	right through me

**Author's Note:**

> Character Notes: you [reader] as Mafuyu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so in love with Osamu!

It was curious — the way Osamu’s palms grew damp with sweat when your heavy all-seeing gaze peered back at him. He didn’t necessarily know you, but he felt like he had heard enough from Atsumu to _believe_ he could comprehend your existence. (He couldn’t.) You were the mid-year transfer student he couldn’t rid from his hearing, since Inarizaki was so adamant on acknowledging your presence.

Osamu didn’t particularly succumb to gossip — if anything, he thought it was a nuisance. If he could count the amount of things he allowed his mind to wander to, the quantity in full was thirty-seven — give or take — but such obvious and miscalculated exaggerations of truth that distorted further from reality with each ear it reached were not one of the them.

He had first heard the brewing storm manifest as whispers six days or so before you stood at the front of his class. One of Osamu’s better habits was arriving to school in a timely manner, even if he didn’t have early morning practices, however the worst of it was the napping he intended to do all through home room.

There were rumours dangling in front of Inarizaki’s eye like rotten bait, and it seemed everyone was susceptible to its cunning charm.

He next felt the thunderous tremor was Heisuke mentioned something he had overheard some of the boys in gym talking about at practice late after school. Something about a _Shaman_ or a _fortune-teller_ — but those were the only words the younger Miya allowed himself to listen to before he lost interest.

The final straw was when Atsumu twisted and turned in his bed, restless one night. The groaning of his bed springs kept Osamu up, and the latter took his pillow to hurl it across the room. “Shut _up_.”

“M’thinking.”

“That’s a first.” And then, “Don’t wanna hear it.”

“Nanami-chan told me something interesting today."

“Don’t care, Tsumu.”

“It’s interesting, I promise.” A short pause, as if he were waiting for further protest. "Transfer student’s like a medium, or somethin’ like that.”

“I don’t believe in that stuff.”

Atsumu laughed. Neither did he. “Let’s ask her if we’re gonna win Nationals.” But Osamu thought that idea was terrible.

What was even _more_ terrible was the consistent update Atsumu gave him every night following. Osamu didn’t care, he really didn’t — and he was vocal about his standing. But Atsumu wouldn’t cease, and so the younger twin sighed, readily deciding he would have to endure it.

His endurance was rather impressive, too; and he wouldn’t have broken had he not formulated subconsciously in his mind that Atsumu wasn’t referring to a real person but a being that just did not exist. Osamu was wrong.

You didn’t look like a psychic to him — but he didn’t exactly have anything to compare to. He supposed he had imagined an absurd hair colour, glowing yellow eyes; a feline-like girl elbow-deep in beaded bracelets, a rucksack carrying talismans. Perhaps a witch’s broom like in western fairytales.

But you appeared somewhat ordinary to him. And you were pretty, too, in an unconventional way. Slanted eyes, like his team captain’s, and short cropped hair to your shoulders with a dice hairband separating half into a little pony tail. You wore your sleeves rolled up, a sports jacket over the top of your uniform and there was a shine of metal in the middle of your tongue, hidden behind a pearly white grin.

You weren’t really a Shaman, or a fortune-teller, or a medium — as everyone was saying. That was the first fact you had shot down with a merciless arrow when a small group of girls approached you to ask. The teacher, Osamu thought had a vengeance against him — because he arranged your seat right in front of his. Osamu had no choice but to stare at the back of your head during class and overhear all the conversations you had.

“I guess I can tell you who suits you best based on your star-sign?” You offered almost apologetic that such rumours had churned in your place. “That’s about it though.”

Osamu thought you didn’t have to apologise for something that wasn’t your fault, and even more than that — the oddest thing about you at first glance had to be your name.

“Yer a scrub,” Atsumu said, shoving his bag into Osamu’s chest. “So ya didn’t ask if she could see us winnin’?”

Osamu frowned, upper lip almost curling into a snarl. “Told ya she _isn’t_ a fortune-teller. Why would I?”

You signed up for many extracurriculars on your second and third days. He only learnt about your descent into the Astronomy club when the loud mouth-breathing club president terrorised you with a theoretical study of blackholes as soon as lunchtime rolled around, and on his way to home room from morning practice, he saw you watering the school flower patches.

He had stopped for only a mere moment to observe you. He thought he was weird of you to be at school so early with the priority being _garden-keeping_ but he wouldn’t say that aloud.

“Good morning, Miya Osamu-san.”

Did you have eyes in the back of your head? Osamu didn’t reply to your greeting at first, until you turned to face him and flashed him a smile. So he had been caught staring. His hands grew clammy.

“Mornin’.” And then he went on his way before further conversation could ensue.

Running _errands_ seemed to be a favourable past time for you, too, once the student council caught wind of your inept eye for error. You double-checked bookkeeping, scanned over important documents to fix mistakes or nonsensical articles — sworn, of course, to secrecy — and occasionally you would be summoned to meetings.

Spending only a few weeks at Inarizaki, you made a lot of allies and at record speed. Good terms with the Student President who showed face _only_ in class or at assemblies; a friend of Sawayama-san, the blockhead who had repeated his third year _twice_ now; and from Class 2-D, you sometimes ate lunch with Todoki Uta — the otaku who coldly shunned the people he had grown up with since childhood.

It was hard not to like you, or be liked by you. Osamu could argue that you levitated towards odd people — because it made you seem all the more mundane in comparison. But he also thought your knack for winning over weird people with your overly abundant personality made you stand out more.

Osamu didn’t know that people like you existed.

“Nanami-chan says she’s weird,” Atsumu said one night between howl-like yawns. Practice was brutal that day — and both of them were worn to the bone.

“Ya believe anythin’ pretty girls tell ya?”

“When Nanami-chan starts lyin’, then I’ll decide not to believe her.”

That was a stupid way to put it, however Osamu didn’t press any further.

Your most notable attributes Osamu could attest to were your death-sentencing weakness in English language studies, but your rambunctious affinity for mathematics and science. The habit developed by greeting one another on the mornings Coach called practice and you were watering flowers early in front of the main buildings made it comfortable enough to sit together and share textbooks.

Osamu had most definitely inherited inability to understand extensive math equations— and the first time you leaned over to his side of the desk to whisper in his ear a simpler explanation, goosebumps crept up his neck as if feathers were about to sprout out.

“Draw a little diagram. Like this. It makes it easier to work out—“ He nodded, like he was listening, but really he couldn’t quite get past the heat of your breath on his cheek.

Half-embarrassed, he had to ask you to repeat it all back to him again.

And when he got it right on his own for the first time, you pet the top of his head to cheer him on, eyes on his face— those treacherous _hands_ of his grew _moisture._

Osamu found level ground to agree with Nanami for the first time ever— when he overheard a rather weird conversation you had just after school had finished. In the right wing of the main building, there was a male bathroom that no one really used. Odd myths and rumours took it out of use, and Osamu was only passing by when he saw you standing at the door way.

The conversation could’ve passed at a phone-call, but your phone was in your jacket pocket— he could see the toy charms you had on it draping over your skirt. He then thought you were in there with someone, however when he glanced inside, there was nobody there.

Perhaps you really were a little more strange that he had initially concluded.

“What’d Urasa-san mean when she told ya Mafuyu-san is weird?” Atsumu looked at Osamu like he had grown two heads. Osamu threw a ball at his head— which he narrowly avoided with a short duck.

“That she’s just…weird,” said Atsumu as if it were that simple. He picked up another ball. “Why’re ya interested all of a sudden, Samu?”

Osamu considered telling him what he had at the bathroom, but decided against it.He sighed. “Forget it.”

If Atsumu hadn’t been looking, he would’ve missed the slow downturn of his twin’s lips and the twitch of his brow. “Ya like her or somethin’?”

“I said _forget it,_ scrub.”

Sometimes, you looked to be about two seconds away from death. Dark circles around your eyes, an almost sickly pastiness to your complexion, front of your hair swooped up in something like a cow’s lick shape. On these days, you were probably exhausted enough to be exempt from class and you were abnormally quiet.

He would try his best to keep his focus on the front of the classroom, eyes zeroed in on the chalkboard as the teacher spoke. But his gaze kept getting swept up in you as your head drooped forward slowly and then you snapped up, awake. Then, the weight of your skull would teeter backwards before you righted yourself only to repeat the motion again.

Osamu pulled out the chair beside you and sat down just as the teacher called on you— “Can anyone tell me the correct tense of this sentence in English?” And then, “Mafuyu-san?”

“Ya would use past-tense in this case, Sensei,” said Osamu. “Since the action has already been done.”

The teacher faltered a moment, brow sinking into a frown. “Thank you for that, Osamu-san.” Even though she hadn’t been talking to him.

A noise quietly passed your lips, and Osamu turned to look at you. Your eyes were _open_ and when you made that sound again, he realised you were asleep.

Atsumu’s Nanami-chan seemed to be somewhat of a viper, Osamu came to find when she showed up at one of his game’s with _you_ on her arm. You wore a bewildered expression matched with a terrifyingly large smile as your eyes completely ate up the stadium. You had never really been to a volleyball tournament before, and what was even more impressive to you was the severity of Inarizaki’s cheer squad.

When Osamu had observed you for a mere moment in the crowd, your eye was whisked away more so with the cheer team and the perfectly timed orchestra than by the game itself. Your interest was always stolen away by things that seemed absurd — and if that was the case then that would make Miya Osamu the most _ordinary_ thing in your life.

He thought he was seeing things when your gleeful face turned crestfallen as you watched Atsumu — debatably for the first time — silencing the audience with a hand gesture and slamming the ball so hard over the net that he caught an instantaneous point. Osamu turned away with somewhat of a grimace, wondering if perhaps your previous school had been his current opponents since you seemed so glum when Atsumu scored so well with intentions to win.

Osamu pushed you out of his mind for the remainder of the game but couldn’t shift away the frustration that poked him in the back of his throat.

“Nanami-chan, who is that blonde boy who looks like Miya Osamu-san?” You asked your friend, unable to tear your eyes away from the court for a second.

“Are you tellin’ me you really don’t know?” The expression you wore made Nanami laugh in disbelief. “He’s Osamu-kun’s _twin!_ You’re in Osamu-kun’s class and you really didn’t recognise that they have the same face?”

You had thought it was a coincidence. Maybe an older brother in the year level above for you had never seen him at school before.

“Miya Atsumu!” _Miya Atsumu._

Atsumu was beyond upset about the loss to Karasuno, even more so since it was against the goody-two-shoes Kageyama Tobio and that jumping shrimp Hinata Shoyo. It had taken him a long time to get himself together before his disappointment subsided and he could join the rest of his team outside the locker room with a level head.

Nanami was there, waving her hand to get his attention like a madman. “Atsumu-kun, good game!” But Atsumu didn’t feel like it was. Beside her was Kita and Aran, who she had engaged in conversation before his arrival, and he flashed a small smile.

You had disappeared into the bathroom for a short moment and when you came back, you were like a standoffish brute as Atsumu looked to greet you. Fists tightened, face slightly paler, you stared past his shoulder as if you had a vengeance and you barely registered the eldest of the Miya twins was even talking to you.

“Mafuyu-chan?” Nanami asked carefully.

Blinking your eyes, you quickly bowed — once, twice and then a third time— spluttering apologies in embarassment. “It’s nice to meet you, Miya Atsumu-san,” you babbled, finally meeting his eye. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit spaced since your match was so intense.”

“This ya first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “Nanami-chan insisted it would be a match to remember.”

“Ya didn’t see this comin’ and not warn us, didya?”

Osamu smacked Atsumu around the head almost immediately after the words came tumbling out. Since when he had he been standing there?

Confused, you tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry ‘bout him. S’nothing.” Your gaze shifted to Osamu. There was a flicker of orange somewhere there but he could’ve mistaken it. After a moment, it clicked.

“This is about the rumours, right?” You eventually laughed, easing up. “Sorry to disappoint!”

Osamu wondered if you were sick of apologising for something that wasn’t your fault.

“She’s cute,” Atsumu said on the way home. Downing half a bottle of gatorade, he passed it to Osamu. “A little weird but cute.”

“Who?” Osamu asked. Atsumu had talked to quite a few girls after their tournament, so he could’ve been referring to anyone.

“Mafuyu-chan, of course.” Osamu’s eyes flitted to his brother.

“Ya like her?” he asked.

“If I did, what should I do?”

“Ask her out, scrub.”

Atsumu pondered for a moment. “Maybe I will.” But Osamu hoped that he wouldn’t.

Osamu found further reason to back Nanami’s claims to you being strange when he caught you for the _fourth_ time somewhat _stalking_ his brother. He noticed it when your habit of watering the flower patches in the mornings turned to short intervals during lunch time — in which your imposing sights would shoot right through Osamu’s back and into Atsumu.

You watched him carefully like a hawk and Osamu couldn’t make sense of the odd look you wore when Atsumu was around. Nanami was like a pin drop, glued to Atsumu when he wasn’t practicing his tosses, and wherever she went, you sometimes followed in tow.

You lingered longer than usual after school, kicking at the concrete staircase, a short distance away from the gymnasium when volleyball practices were on — but Atsumu never seemed to notice. His interest in you was still apparent, however he had yet to make a move to talk to you again.

It didn’t sit right with Osamu that you seemed to reciprocate somewhat of an _interest_ in Atsumu, too, and neither you nor his brother had worked up the courage to attempt getting closer. Did you like Atsumu? You never asked Osamu about him in class. Were you just being shy? He didn’t think you were capable of not being straight-forward. It irritated him, and when he went to hit a spike, the ball caught the net.

The gym was silent as the ball fell to his feet, and Osamu just stared at it with a frown. He sometimes found himself thinking about the small metal ball imbedded in your tongue —how _distracting._

Around the second week of your absurd infatuation with Atsumu, Osamu began to wake up multiple times at night to shake his brother from the endless cycle of nightmares he started to have.

The first night was a fluke and Atsumu usually slept like a log. The second night, it was a terror for Osamu to have to kick his twin from his dreams. The fifth night in a row, Osamu wondered if you had put a curse on Atsumu because the eldest twin never remembered what it was that caused him to squeal and tremor from fear in his sleep and the only inconsistent he could think of was _you._

When the sleepwalking start and Osamu had to tackle his brother back into bed, he thought — enough was _enough_.

Atsumu put himself in the infirmary during lunchtime to catch up on some “beauty sleep” as he so eloquently put it. Osamu received a rather demanding text that he bring his brother lunch, and though he was reluctant to, he still dallied over with homemade lunch he had prepared the day before and gross “get well soon” notes some of their friends had written on yellow post-it notes.

He had been expecting to see the nurse, or even another student in the other cot when he entered the nurse’s office— but he was surprised to see neither. Instead of Atsumu being alone, you were there. Hands behind your back as you stood next to his cot, quietly observing his sleeping body. Atsumu twitched and garbled in his sleep, and you reached over with long slender fingers—

There was ice in his veins when Osamu snatched at your wrist before you could advance any further. You jumped, and the guilty frightened look you wore didn’t bode well for you.

“What’re ya doin’?” He asked, brows knitting together.

“N-nothing!” Your voice was louder than expected and you glanced at Atsumu, hoping you hadn’t woken him.

Osamu narrowed his eyes. “Come outside.” He didn’t release you, practically dragging you behind him, and he didn’t care for the way you stumbled over your feet in an attempt to right yourself as yo followed him.

“M-Miya Osamu-san, wait for a moment—“ you gasped when he showed no signs of letting you go any time soon. You thought he wasn’t listening at all, opening your mouth to say something again, when he stopped in his tracks suddenly in an empty hallway.

And his gaze pierced you, your body stiffening as if you had something to hide.

Osamu had thought he had dealt with all sorts of girls when it came to Atsumu. He didn’t necessarily think differently of them if they were a bit clingy or persistent, or if they were shy and used strange tactics to harbour his attention. But you were neither of those which he had handled before.

Did you _really_ like Atsumu? Or were you just infatuated with him? He was certain you were the type of person to face feelings head-on, and he had counted on you approaching first out of impatience. _Not_ take the time to watch him sleep. That irked Osamu in more ways than one.

You were eccentric, that much was true. However he was starting to think he had skimmed the part where you were a bit of a nutcase.

“Did ya…do somethin’ to m’brother?”

You blanched, a little uncertain at what he was getting at. “What do you mean ‘ _something’_?”

Of course, when he had thought to himself that you might have cursed Atsumu, he didn’t really believe it.

“I guess it looked weird…” You were referring to the incident earlier in the infirmary. “I wasn’t being a creep or anything, I promise, it’s just that there’s—“ You fell short of words, sewing your jaw shut before you could get any further.

“There’s what?”

“It’s not something I can easily explain. Could you…just trust me when I say that I’m not doing anything dangerous?”

Osamu took that as an indirect confession of love. So you _did_ like Atsumu.

“If it means ya gonna keep actin’ weird around him then, no.” If you liked him, and Atsumu liked you, then he wouldn’t stand in the way.

You laughed and held out your pinky finger to him. “Promise I won’t act weird.” His own finger curled around yours.

“I won’t tell him ya got a habit of watchin’ him sleep then.”

“What? I don’t! It’s not a _habit_ , I was trying to inspect up close the—“ Again, you faltered and pressed your lips together. “Stop makin’ me sound like a creep!”

“I’ll think about it.”

Digging into your pocket, you pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a DL shape, doubled over itself, and you pushed it into his hand. “Can you put this in his bag for me?”

Osamu swallowed. “What is it?”

“Don’t open it. And don’t tell him what it is. Just— put it somewhere he won’t notice it. Please?” When you looked at him with some pleading eyes, he couldn’t say no. “I’m serious, _don’t open it_."

A love letter — probably, he thought. Regardless, he agreed. He didn’t know _why_ he was agreeing when his curiosity would get the better of him.

“I won’t.” A promise for a promise.

Osamu didn’t realise that he hadn’t woken up to Atsumu’s nightmares that night.

“Good morning, Miya Osamu-san!” Osamu almost didn’t register that it _was_ you greeting him that morning with a pail of water in your hands. He continued to walk with his hands fisted in his jacket when you called out again— “I said _good-morning!”_ You barrelled into his side and he stumbled, blinking.

“Mafuyu-san…?”

It really was you. You had returned to your normal routine of garden-keeping in the mornings.

“Sorry. M’half asleep,” he yawned. “Mornin’.”

“Even after exercising?”

“I hate mornings.” He did, but he was good at getting up early.

“Me too. Smell this.” He didn’t know what kind of person carried a small jar of herbs in their pockets, but it seemed you did. You popped open the top and held it to his face.

Sceptical, he took a whiff. It smelt good, aromatic. It was pleasant— but he didn’t really know what relevance that had to being tired.

“Give it about thirty minutes and you’ll feel good as new!”

He nodded his head before bidding farewell and going on his merry way. As you had said, thirty minutes later, he felt like he had slept for a week straight and had all the energy in the world.

You weren’t weird around Atsumu anymore. Though, you only ever ate lunch alongside Nanami every now and then. It was normal, and it was good, and Osamu wondered if you really did like Atsumu as you had said (you hadn’t though) since you didn’t treat him any differently to anyone else, nor did you try to get closer.

“I don’t think she sees me as a man,” Atsumu scowled.

“Cos ya not one.”

“If I ask her out, she’s gonna think it’s as friends!”

“Probably.”

Osamu felt bad for being relieved that his twin thought so.

Osamu forgot about the paper you had asked him to put in Atsumu’s bag secretly. And he had forgotten about the weeks Atsumu had endless nightmares— since that felt like something distant in the past. Atsumu was cleaning his bag when he found it, holding it up between his fingers.

“What’s this, Samu?”

Osamu didn’t look up. “How would I know? S’your bag, not mine.”

Shrugging, he scrunched it up and dumped it along with the bits of rubbish at the bottom of his bag into the bin.

Osamu had a strange dream that night. There was a large bed in a small windowless room engulfed in a shroud of darkness. When he stepped closer, he could make out a person lying on it. It was you. Puppy-eyed, you looked up at him and reached forward to hook your finger into the loop of his pants.

“Atsumu-san, I love you.”

“M’not Tsumu,” he frowned.

A wave of revelation washed over you like cold water and you raised up onto your knees. “You’re right. You aren’t Atsumu, you will never be Atsumu. How could I be so foolish? Of course, the one _I_ love isn’t _you_.”

Atsumu stepped into the light, looping an arm over your shoulders. And then you were blushing and smiling and Atsumu pushed you onto your back, crawling on top of you. Osamu felt sick. The light was dimming, the darkness growing heavier and heavier. You were whispering ministrations and Atsumu didn’t even look at him. Osamu couldn’t breathe properly.

“Oi, Tsumu, what’re ya—“

“Miya Osamu-san!” A body barrelled into his, and the scene completed changed. And it was you again— rolled up sleeves, toothy grin. The dice in your hair clinked together and you were holding a pail of water, “Good morning!”

Then, he woke up.

He felt ashamed to face you. That day hadn’t particularly been going his way— Atsumu’s nightmares had re-escalated; he had woken up late for the first time in his life; forgotten his lunch, and then he had been reprimanded by Kita. The last thing he wanted to do was look at you when fragments of his obscene dream were still lingering like morning dew.

He avoided you that morning, only waving when you greeted him; and then he kept his body facing the teacher when you shared a textbook in class. Without saying much, you offered a jar for him to smell to get his energies right again— but he refused.

And then it all went even further downhill at lunchtime. Osamu was last to arrive— dubbed with the duty of buying himself and his brother lunch since _he_ had been the one to leave it behind— and you were standing a few meters away, frozen solid as your eye trained on Atsumu.

You were talking to yourself, not something Osamu hadn’t already seen before, but when he grew closer, you didn’t even register his presence. “I-it’s worse now, how is it worse now? It’s—“

“What’s worse?”

You just about jumped out of your skin. Turning to face Osamu, your expression was one of absolute horror.

“Miya Osamu-san, has Miya Atsumu-san’s nightmares started again?” You practically seized his arms, grip tight and knuckles white.

Osamu frowned. “How did ya—“

“Is he sleepwalking? Lack of appetite? _When_ did it start again?” And then your face fell into realisation. “Where’s the talisman I gave you? Did you open it? _Did you throw it away?”_

“That paper? No, I didn’t—“ But Atsumu had. He had emptied the entire contents of his bag into the bin the other day. “…Talisman?” He faltered. “Mafuyu-san, what’s goin’ on?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as you looked from him to Atsumu, and then back at him. Osamu couldn’t see it, Atsumu couldn’t see it, and Nanami couldn’t either. They were all blind-sided by the grotesque entity that hung off of Atsumu’s shoulder like a manifestation of negative energy; growing two-heads more than what was there before. It hugged Atsumu close, attached to him like a leech. And the stench— _God, the stench._

If you were right, then there was more to be done than you initially thought. And you couldn’t drag anyone into this— you knew you couldn’t.

Breathing deeply, in and out, your grip loosened and your hands fell to your sides. Like a coin drop, your expression switched immediately.

“I’m sorry— I was just overreacting,” you laughed. “Forget I said anything, I’m not feeling well.”

Osamu wasn’t buying it. “Me neither.”

“I’m gonna go lay down for a minute. I’ll see you in class.”

“I’ll come with ya. Just wait here a second.” His knuckle nudged your cheek lightly, and you looked up at him. “I mean it— _wait_ for me.”

He jogged over to his friends, dropping the food he had bought into Atsumu’s lap. When they asked why you weren’t coming over, he told them he was taking you to the nurse. Not a lie— and you considered just making a run for it. But you knew he would confront you about it in class if you did.

The walk to the infirmary was quiet and you could see Osamu glancing over at you in your peripheral vision.

“Ya gonna tell me what that was all about?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” You butted back.

“Not if ya know things ya shouldn’t.” You didn’t reply, only quickened your pace. “Hey.”

You didn’t stop, and you walked right past the nurse. “Hey!”

The next few seconds went down like this; Osamu grabbed your arm and you snatched it away with more strength than intended. Osamu reached for you again, and this time, he had nudged you against the wall until your back was pressed flat against it, head trapped between his arms.

“Don’t think ya gettin’ away so easy,” he said, voice low and guttural. You stared back at him, resisting the urge to claw at your face. “ _What_ is goin’ on with you and Tsumu?”


End file.
